


"Wait For Me"

by prodigalpoet



Series: Soulmates [6]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, Communication is crucial, Consent is Sexy, Dancing On My Own, F/F, Heroes Aren't The Only Ones Who Get The Girl, POV Eve Polastri, POV Second Person, POV Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Post Bridge Scene, Soft Eve Polastri, Soft Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Use Somebody, kings of leon - Freeform, sex on fire, soul searching, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25235929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prodigalpoet/pseuds/prodigalpoet
Summary: Two weeks after the bridge…Eve and Villanelle are both working for Carolyn. Eve didn’t turn on the bridge but Villanelle did. She misinterprets Eve's desire to follow her own instructions as indifference. Eve misinterprets Villanelle's instructions as a desire to destroy everything about her old life, including their not-relationship-relationship. Both are extremely confused and angry with each other but unable to communicate. Villanelle throws herself into work and surprises everyone by doing her job diligently and without complaint. Since Carolyn wants her to live with Eve until she can secure a safe place for her, she begrudgingly accepts, not having any other options at her disposal now that Konstantin has disappeared.Tensions run high for two weeks until Villanelle leaves Eve's flat for a hotel and the two idiots manage to meet and have an actual conversation where they share some feelings.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Series: Soulmates [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793398
Comments: 18
Kudos: 164





	1. "Use Somebody"

**Author's Note:**

> Title of whole piece is taken from the Kings of Leon track of the same name.
> 
> The chapter is guided by "Use Somebody" by Kings of Leon.
> 
> Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gnhXHvRoUd0
> 
> Lyrics:  
> I've been roaming around  
> Always looking down at all I see  
> Painted faces, fill the places I can't reach  
> You know that I could use somebody  
> You know that I could use somebody  
> Someone like you, and all you know, and how you speak  
> Countless lovers under cover of the street  
> You know that I could use somebody  
> You know that I could use somebody  
> Someone like you  
> Off in the night, while you live it up, I'm off to sleep  
> Waging wars to shape the poet and the beat  
> I hope it's gonna make you notice  
> I hope it's gonna make you notice  
> Someone like me  
> Someone like me  
> Someone like me, somebody  
> Someone like you, somebody  
> Someone like you, somebody  
> Someone like you, somebody  
> I've been roaming around,  
> Always looking down at all I see

You slam the front door of Eve’s apartment and hail a taxi the second your feet hit the curb. You can hear the door being flung open behind you and then you hear her calling out to you. You can feel the frustration in her voice, jagged like razor wire, but you shake your head, wanting desperately to ignore it. Without a look back, you almost fall into the taxi in your haste to get away, giving the driver an address for a hotel in central London where you can decompress and get away from all the noise that has been clouding your mind the last two weeks. You slip your headphones on and move your head back and forth as “Use Somebody” by The Killers fills your ears. Even when you close your eyes and strain your ears to focus on the song, the noises you've learned to associate with her drowns everything else out.The noise of her banging around in the kitchen trying to make an edible dish. The noise of her typing as she huddles over her laptop at the kitchen table and glances at you watching t.v. on the couch. The noise of her trying to engage you in conversation only to be met with one word responses before her anger reveals itself in her tone and in her eyes and in her voice and she disappears into her bedroom, jerking the door shut behind her and you’re left lying down on the couch feeling like you’re a child again and back in that godforsaken orphanage. 

You just want to quiet down and be still and hope she won’t follow you to the hotel because she talks a lot. Whether she’s muttering to herself below her breath while reading a recipe she’s attempting to make or whether she’s going over her notes while typing up a report for Carolyn, she’s always engaged in a running commentary with herself. Her mind is always moving and you wonder if it even stops when she goes to sleep or if it keeps her awake at night. You wouldn’t know because she sleeps with her bedroom door closed, effectively denying you access to her most intimate space. Maybe you deserve it with how curt you’ve been with her or maybe you deserve it because you’ve been staying out all night fucking strangers in their apartments and returning around 2 o’ clock am, knowing full well that she’s waiting for you to come back because her light goes off the second you walk through the front door.

The taxi reaches the hotel and you throw the driver some notes, making sure to include a generous tip. Ten minutes later, you’re lying on your back on top of a king sized bed. Your cellphone is next to you and your hands are at your sides. You feel alone and wonder how that is possible when just two weeks ago, you thought you would never be alone again when she gave you that look that made you feel invincible. A look that made you feel like the most desired person on the planet. You thought she would cure your loneliness and you’re surprised at how these last two weeks have only reintroduced you to that void within yourself where there is only you, deafening silence, and the ghost of a mother whose words follow you everywhere. You’ve tasted loneliness whenever she has stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, and running the shower. You’ve imagined yourself in there with her, standing behind her, slipping your arms around her waist, kissing the length of her neck. The urge to touch and taste her overwhelmed your senses and even though you’re finally sharing the apartment of the woman you thought you loved (do you even know what that means?), you feel like you are living alone. The feeling scares you to death because maybe you will never know what love is and maybe her answer to your question will always be no and maybe she has never wanted you back and maybe you’re not meant to be loved or cared for because of the darkness inside of you that makes people flinch. The only people who don’t flinch are the ones you fuck but even the ones you fuck have a desperate look in their eyes when your fingers curl around their throat and you start to squeeze down, enjoying the way the feeling of control seeps through that void that is always there, waiting to be filled.

The vibration of your phone pulls you out of your reverie. 

Eve: Where are you??

You grimace after reading the text because she makes you feel like a child who has run away from school or from home and you imagine her to be an angry parent or teacher exasperated over the fact that their time is being wasted on such ridiculous affairs. You wonder if you should text her and realize that if you don’t, she will probably contact Carolyn and then Carolyn will start to look at you again like you are crazy, like you are just a killing machine who is good for nothing else. You decide to respond.

Villanelle: Hotel.

Eve: Can you please send me the address?

Villanelle: I need to be alone.

You turn your phone off and walk into the bathroom to wash your face and smooth out your hair. Even though you’re starving, your body is pulsing with energy that needs to be released so you decide to pop downstairs to the hotel bar and find someone to bring back to your room. You don’t find a curly-haired brunette and you’re disappointed. Instead, you find a middle-aged lawyer with straight blonde hair who is in town for a conference. You call her Eve and she doesn’t complain. She doesn’t complain when you grab her hair and yank her head back or when you bite down a little too hard on the skin above her hipbone. You make her come in the shower, on top of the undisturbed bed and on top of the desk facing the window. She doesn’t make you come but she brings you close and you finish off the job, asking her to leave shortly after. She is angry and confused but you don’t care. You ignore her whines and lock the door behind you before slipping into the shower and standing beneath a stream of hot water for twenty minutes. When you exit the bathroom, you throw on one of the hotel bathrobes and lie back down on the bed, turning on your phone after removing it from the bedside table drawer. A stream of messages spread out over the last two hours show up and a fluttering feeling swoops through your belly.

Eve: I understand that but we need to talk.

Eve: Oksana, please. This isn’t funny. We’re supposed to physically be together at all times or the majority of the time, Carolyn’s orders. People are trying to kill us, remember???

Eve: Seriously, I’m worried. You haven’t picked up any of my calls and now you’re not even texting me back? How long are you not going to talk to me for?

Eve: I’m coming to your hotel. I asked Bear for the address. I’m not sorry about it. You can’t run away again.

Ten minutes later…

“Oksana!? I know you’re in here. Open the door.”

You feel like your heart has stopped and then you think you must be dreaming because why would Eve track you down to a hotel if you two were only work colleagues? Do colleagues do this kind of thing, care about one another? You shake your head.

“Oksana! OPEN. THE. BLOODY. DOOR.”

“I’m COMING,” you yell back and unlock the door. Eve strides past you, her curly hair bouncing against the nape of her neck. You sit down on the edge of the bed and you don’t return her accusatory glare as her eyes run up and down your body. You feel your skin heating up beneath her gaze against your intentions not to react.

“I’m not here to argue. I’m here because I actually do care about you despite whatever you might be thinking. You haven’t talked to me since the bridge. You haven’t even looked at me. You haven’t tried to touch me but you sure as hell have been touching everyone else. You’ve been going out and fucking whoever you want and coming back at one, two am. In fact, you go out of your way to not have any physical interaction. I grabbed a coffee mug from the table at work and you almost broke the one you were holding because you thought our fingers were accidentally going to touch. Am I repulsive to you or something? Do you not want to work together because you find the work or me suddenly so mind-numbingly boring? Just talk to me, please…”

You look up when you hear the desperation tugging at the edges of her voice and suddenly you notice the bags under her eyes and the lines across her forehead and you feel like you’re looking at her for the first time. 

“On the bridge, I told you to walk and not look back and you actually listened. I looked back and you were gone. So I thought maybe you don’t want anything to do with me anymore and maybe the feelings I have are not mutual.”

“Oksana, what the fuck are you talking about?” 

Her voice is no longer calm and there is a challenge in her voice as she waits for you to conjure up some kind of response. You watch her stand up, eyebrows raised, and you feel the energy in the room shift once again. There is an electric current, you think, between her navel and your navel and it is taut like someone upstairs is holding onto both ends of a wire and pulling with equal amounts of force, waiting for it to snap.

“YOU are the one who asked me to turn around and walk away and not look back. So I did! I listened to you because I fucking love you, that’s what you do when you love someone, you listen to them, even though their idea is fucking ridiculous and doesn’t make any sense, you do as they ask because you want them to be happy. I thought you would be happy if I listened to you, I thought you wanted to let me go so you could move onto someone else and leave behind everything about your old life…”

“Why would I want that?!” 

Now you are standing and you approach her, being careful not to get to close. You tower above her and try to look into her eyes and understand the thought train running behind her pupils. Her pupils are dark now, unreadable, but you notice the tension tightening the muscles in her face.

“Did you hear what I said? I said I fucking love you!,” she screams and you can smell alcohol on her breath and suddenly she is pounding clenched fists against your chest and her hair is itching your chin and you’re crying and she’s crying and your hands are trying to grab hers so you can still both your bodies.

“Stop,” you say quietly and she does. You pull her to the edge of the bed and sit. You take her hand slowly, placing it above your heart and you can feel the pounding and she can feel it, too. Your ears are ringing and blood is rushing to your head but the world has quieted down and everything is silent now when she is staring at you like you’re an open book.

“You love me?,” you ask, your voice scarcely above a whisper as if to inquire any louder will puncture the moment and wake you up from the dream you think you’re in.

“Yes!! Didn’t you figure that out on the bridge when I told you I only saw your face when I think about my future?”

“I thought you didn’t care about me because you walked away.”

“Oksana, I do care about you and that's exactly why I walked away! I was just doing what you wanted! These last few weeks have been complete --"

“Shit?”

“Pure shit. I haven’t been able to sleep. I haven’t been able to focus at work. You’ve shown up every day, worked your ass off, and just…disappeared afterwards like you had so many people to see and so many things to do and I felt left out and thought maybe you didn’t like this new life Carolyn is trying to create for us. Maybe you think I’m boring and this life is boring and you just wanted to get away from everything and have sex with strangers…” 

You choke and realize you’re crying again and then you feel like your insides are on fire and you can’t believe how stupid you have been to have not understood Eve’s pain.

“You’re not boring. You’re the most interesting thing about me. I haven’t been able to sleep or eat or think about anything other than you. I made a mistake. I told you to walk away but I really wanted you to turn around so we could go somewhere together and start something new together. I thought you didn’t like me anymore.”

“That’s so stupid,” she mumbles, eyes grazing over your bruised throat.

“I know, I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re—“

“I am.”

"Just shut up and listen to me for one second. Do you want to be my girlfriend?,” she stammers, her breath low and her eyes not quite holding onto yours.

“Yes.”

Your answer comes out quickly and you don't even mind at how honest she makes you and how easy it is for you to say what you want now, after holding yourself back for so long.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Because guess what, I fucking love you, too.”

She smiles and you feel like a lightning bug just flew into your mouth and has decided to make your body its home. Your limbs feel lighter and you think your skin is illuminated with the lightness. You smile back at her, the first genuine smile you’ve shared with anyone since you shared one with her on the bridge. You can feel laughter rising inside of you and you don’t try to stop it as it spills from your tongue and into the air between you. You pull her towards you so your foreheads are resting against each other and you shudder as she moves one hand up and down your side, her fingers trailing over the robe.

“Do you want to lie down together?,” you ask, a shy smile replacing the wide one. 

She nods and you help her remove her jacket, hanging it on the back of the chair. She’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans and you think about asking her to remove her jeans because the comforter is quite thick and she’ll get hot. You refrain from doing so and instead turn towards the bed, pulling the covers back. When you turn around, she’s standing in front of you in her t-shirt and nothing else. A small “Oh,” escapes your lips and you blush. You try to say something but nothing comes out. She walks towards you, her eyes still wet with tears, and kisses you on the cheek. You think then that this is what heaven must be like and slip into bed behind her, turning away from her only to turn off the light. When you turn around, she is facing you. Your breath hitches and you feel your entire body reacting when her palm finds your lower back, pulling your bodies closer together. 

“Oksana?”

“Yes?”

“You can remove your robe if you like.” 

She sounds shy but confident and you like how simple things are, you following direction and she, giving it.

“Okay.” 

You sit up and remove the robe, hurriedly pushing it to the floor. You feel nervous now and more aware of your body than you’ve ever been in front of anyone. You can feel her eyes running over your skin as you lie back down and when one of her hands finds your hipbone and the other finds your breast, your eyes close. Your breath is shaky when you reopen them and you try to ignore the increasing feelings of arousal as you take in the sight before you. She follows your gaze and looks down between her legs. 

“Can you just hold me?,” she asks, swallowing hard, when she lifts her head back up and maintains eyes contact.

You nod and you move from your side to your back so she can slide her arm around your waist and you can slide yours around her neck. Her fingers crawl up the side of your ribcage and you feel like she is pulling your breaths out of you, similar to a puppet master pulling on strings. 

“Eve?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry for giving you really bad instructions on the bridge.”

“I know you are. We can talk some more in the morning, okay?”

“Can we get pancakes for breakfast?”

“Yes. Pancakes and lots of coffee. We have a lot of talking and planning to do.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Please don’t call me that, it reminds me of Carolyn and I don’t want to think about her when we’re lying next to each other.”

You smile as Eve laughs against your chest. The mood feels a lot lighter between the two of you and you remember how good it feels when you make her laugh.

“Okay, girlfriend,” you reply softly, using her term.

“Goodnight then, girlfriend,” Eve says back. She lifts her head and moves to kiss you on the cheek again but this time your lips meet hers. When you pull back, you can’t help but notice the smile on her lips and you inhale as her hair spills freely across your torso like liquid. 

For the first time in your life, that void inside of you starts to close.


	2. "Dancing On My Own"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve's point of view covering the two weeks after the bridge and her reunion with Villanelle at the hotel.
> 
> “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I'll meet you there." Rumi
> 
> "You and I search for a wide valley, for another planet where the salt wouldn't touch your hair, where sorrows couldn't grow because of anything I did..." Pablo Neruda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guiding track for this piece: Kings of Leon covering Robyn's "Dancing On My Own" 
> 
> Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mYKyGz3yHVM
> 
> Lyrics:  
> Somebody said you got a new friend  
> Does she love you better than I can?  
> It's a big black sky over my town  
> I know where you at, I bet she's around  
> Yeah, I know it's stupid  
> I just gotta see it for myself  
> I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her  
> Oh, oh  
> I'm right over here, why can't you see me?  
> Oh, oh  
> I'm giving it my all, but I'm not the girl you're taking home  
> Oh, oh  
> I keep dancing on my own  
> I'm just gonna dance all night  
> I'm all messed up, I'm so outta line  
> Stilettos on broken bottles  
> I'm spinning around in circles  
> I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her  
> Oh, oh  
> I'm right over here, why can't you see me?  
> Oh, oh  
> I'm giving it my all, but I'm not the girl you're taking home  
> Oh, oh  
> I keep dancing on my own, I keep dancing on  
> So far away, but still so near  
> The lights go on, the music dies  
> But you don't see me standing here  
> I just came to say goodbye  
> I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her  
> Oh, oh  
> I'm giving it my all, but I'm not the girl you're taking home  
> Oh, oh  
> I keep dancing on my own  
> I keep dancing on my own

The last two weeks have been…interesting. Carolyn demanded that you house Villanelle for safety’s sake so you said yes but the cohabitation has been nothing like you thought it would be. You thought both of you would have talked about what happened on the bridge by now but that hasn’t happened. You go to work at different times and leave at different times so the opportunity to communicate during the commute hasn’t been there. She shows up, works her ass off, and leaves, and you want to leave with her but you don’t want to seem desperate so you say and do nothing and she repeats the process. If Carolyn is surprised at the shift in tension between you two, she doesn’t let on. She’s just happy to be utilizing Villanelle to the best of her abilities but even with Carolyn’s silent nods of approval, you notice Villanelle doesn’t preen. She doesn’t revel in the accolades regarding her performance and that is unlike her. She seems cold, indifferent, and you don’t know why. She’s the one who asked you to walk away on the bridge, didn’t she? So if anyone should be unfeeling, it should be you. 

You try to say something to her one day when you’re both getting coffee from the coffee station and the way her body reacts to yours when your knuckles accidentally brush up against her hand makes you want to break your mug against the side of her head. Your eyes widen and your breath starts to accelerate and you suddenly wish the coffee was a gin and tonic and maybe she’s made you into a raging alcoholic because drinking is the only thing you can think about when you rush into the private bathroom and dry heave over the sink. When you glance at your reflection in the mirror, your hair seems wild. You wonder if she still likes it down. You throw it up in a bun. Fuck her. She won’t get to see it down if that’s what she likes. Anger is pulsing beneath your skin and you can understand, for a minute, the desire to transfer that anger to someone else. To pour it into someone else’s body as you plunge a blade straight into their heart and remove their power from them. You think you would make a decent assassin. Maybe someone would make a wall featuring your kills. You scoff and wash your hands. When you exit the bathroom, you see her lingering awkwardly around the coffee machine. Her eyes quickly meet yours and then she turns on her heel, disappearing into her office. This time, however, she doesn’t slam the door like she usually does. She closes it quietly. When you happen to sit down in your chair and look up, her eyes catch yours again. You feel like there is a blade in your heart and only she has the power to remove it.

When you go home, she’s rarely around. You curse as you prepare dinner because you’re exhausted from work and from Carolyn’s constant orders and from her silence. You don’t know if she enjoys what you make but you do notice that the containers filled with leftovers are always washed out and in the drying rack the following morning so you assume she eats everything you set aside. When she is around, she is on the couch, a pillow held close to her chest. Sometimes she watches Shrek (which, oh my god, of course she would enjoy). Sometimes she watches Clueless. You sneak glances at her from behind your laptop screen and you grin when she laughs at moments other people wouldn’t necessarily find funny. You bake cookies and leave a plate of them on the table before slipping into you room and closing the door. When you open the door two hours later, she’s passed out on the couch, mouth hanging open, hair tousled and framing her face, empty plate on the coffee table in front of her. You want to bend down then and kiss her deeply on the lips because of how disarmingly cute she looks. You want to sit on top of her and lie down against her chest because you know her arms would find your back and she would hold you and whisper dirty things into your ear just to make you laugh. You know this but the invisible wall between you still exists so you walk back into your room (leaving the door slightly open instead of fully closed, just in case she wants to talk when she wakes up) and turn off your lamp and you go to bed. 

The nights she isn’t around, the dull ache of missing her curls up like a cat against the bottom of your spine. The ache stretches itself around your body and your muscles feel taut and it hurts for you to breathe. You know she’s fucking people because one night she comes home at one thirty am and you walk out of the bedroom to get a glass of water and startle her while she is changing in front of the couch. Your eyes widen when you notice a series of hickeys across her chest. When she realizes that you saw them, she blushes and hurriedly throws her shirt on, turning away from you almost like she is embarrassed. You promptly reenter your room without getting any water and slam the door behind you, your entire body on fire because you are jealous and so angry. Lyrics from a Kings of Leon song enter your mind, making you even more upset because she has invaded your personal space so much that even her playlists are the ones to pop up in times of emergency and not your own: “I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her. Oh, oh. I’m right over here, why can't you see me? Oh, oh. I’m giving it my all, but I'm not the girl you're taking home. Oh, oh. I keep dancing on my own.” In that moment, you know then that you are going to have a talk with her the next day and be the first one to break the wall. Because how dare she live with you and fuck other people? The least she can do is look you in your eyes and tell you that she is over you, done with your not-relationship-relationship, and ask you for your fucking blessing to move on. It’s not like she asked you for permission when she killed Gemma and ruined your marriage. So the least she can do now is ask you for yours.

When you try to confront her the following evening by asking her calmly “Are you just going to fuck your way around London?,” you thought you were being proactive and breaking down that communication barrier. You didn’t think she’d run out of your flat and jump into a taxi, her entire body trembling like you had just walked in on her having sex. You couldn’t explain the wild look in her eyes when you posed the question, a look you haven’t seen there before, a look of knowing, of being known, of hiding, of being hidden. You think maybe you’ve pulled back a curtain she wants to continue disappearing behind. But you’ve always been good at magic, having spent an entire summer of your life learning magic tricks from a box your dad bought for you from an estate sale. And you know, no matter how many times she leaves, you will always call for her and ask her to come back and sometimes you’ll make her appear unwillingly, pulling her ear like a rabbit from a hat, and sometimes she'll appear willingly, shocking you into how good she is at showing up when you least expect it. You also know she’ll make you gasp with the way she disappears, a dove hurling herself against the sky like she’s always belonged there, a small cloud.

Your heart is threatening to stop when you see her headphones covering her blonde hair covering her shoulders as the taxi rips away from the curb. You beg her to look back but she doesn’t. You run back into the flat and drink water, trying to cool yourself down. What if she’s gone off the deep end now? You know that she’s been spiraling the last two weeks and to be honest, so have you. Carolyn will actually kill you if Villanelle turns up dead in the Thames. No, she wouldn’t throw herself off the bridge. She’d just assume a new identity and flee. And that’s what makes you stop dead in your tracks. The possibility of her leaving you forever. And now you’re regretting your stupid question because you’d accept cohabitation with her, as emotional as it has been, then have her leave your life for good.

Shit! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 

You grab your phone and text her.

“Where are you??

She sends you a one word response, “Hotel.”

Okay, good. Maybe she doesn’t plan on leaving the country yet.

“Can you please send me the address?”

“I need to be alone.”

Her answer hurts but you understand her caged response. You weren’t exactly cordial with your inquiry and you haven’t been the most open hostess. Come to think of it, you weren’t exactly receptive to her attempts to pull you in before. She was the one who remembered your birthday and sent you a cake, after all. She was the one who sent you clothes and perfume and roses spelling out your name. She was the one who sent you that teddy bear. You start to cry at the influx of memories and you drape yourself over the couch, holding onto her cushion and inhaling her scent. You’ve been such an idiot. A foolish, stubborn idiot.

You pick your phone back up after making yourself a drink.

“I understand that but we need to talk.”

She doesn’t respond. You drink.

“Oksana, please. This isn’t funny. We’re supposed to physically be together at all times or the majority of the time, Carolyn’s orders. People are trying to kill us, remember???”

She doesn’t respond but you don’t care. You just drink some more. You text Bear and ask him for a favor. He replies a few minutes later and you ask him to track Villanelle’s phone. He doesn’t question the request after you lie and say it’s Carolyn’s orders. You know he knows you’re bullshitting him and you’re thankful he doesn’t tease you about it and you plan on paying him back with as many bags of Fangtastics as he can hold. You rush outside and get ready to hail a taxi.

“Seriously, I’m worried. You haven’t picked up any of my calls and now you’re not even texting me back? How long are you not going to talk to me for?”

Bear texts you the hotel address and you relay it to the taxi driver. You send out one last text and try to remain composed.

“I’m coming to your hotel. I asked Bear for the address. I’m not sorry about it. You can’t run away again.”

You’re surprised at how close the hotel is to your flat and you wonder if she did that on purpose, so you could find her easily. You’re banging at her door and demanding that she open up, hoping to God there is nobody else in the room with her.

“Oksana!? I know you’re in here. Open the door.”

You can hear shuffling from inside and you know she’s on the other side of the door, waiting to see what you will do next.

“Oksana! OPEN. THE. BLOODY. DOOR.” You bang against the door harder.

“I’m COMING.”

The door is flung open and she is standing in front of you in a bathrobe, hair pulled up. She smells so good. Your eyes graze over her throat and her legs and you try to ignore the increasing feelings of arousal threatening to knock you out.

You sit down at a chair in front of a desk and words fall from your lips.

“I’m not here to argue. I’m here because I actually do care about you despite whatever you might be thinking. You haven’t talked to me since the bridge. You haven’t even looked at me. You haven’t tried to touch me but you sure as hell have been touching everyone else. You’ve been going out and fucking whoever you want and coming back at one, two am. In fact, you go out of your way to not have any physical interaction. I grabbed a coffee mug from the table at work and you almost broke the one you were holding because you thought our fingers were accidentally going to touch. Am I repulsive to you or something? Do you not want to work together because you find the work or me suddenly so mind-numbingly boring? Just talk to me, please…”

Her eyes find yours and you know she has listened to everything you have said because there is a familiar flicker there, behind her pupils.

“On the bridge, I told you to walk and not look back and you actually listened. I looked back and you were gone. So I thought maybe you don’t want anything to do with me anymore and maybe the feelings I have are not mutual.”

You’re angry at her response because you were just doing what she asked you to. You try to remain calm but your voice is elevated when you speak again.

“Oksana, what the fuck are you talking about?” You get up from the chair, your body pulsing with electricity, and you feel like you are going to break open. “YOU are the one who asked me to turn around and walk away and not look back. So I did! I listened to you because I fucking love you, that’s what you do when you love someone, you listen to them, even though their idea is fucking ridiculous and doesn’t make any sense, you do as they ask because you want them to be happy. I thought you would be happy if I listened to you, I thought you wanted to let me go so you could move onto someone else and leave behind everything about your old life…”

“Why would I want that?!”

She stands up and your breath tumbles in your throat. Even when she is towering above you, she doesn’t seem intimidating or scary. She just seems lost. And sad. And you think your heart is breaking, staggering into fragments across the floor of your chest and you only want to reach out and touch her and hold her and deal with this fucking thing called life together. 

“Did you hear what I said? I said I fucking love you!,” you blurt out before touching her, throwing your fists against her chest because you know she would never throw them back, like she didn't on the bus. You know she would never raise her hand against you and this knowledge makes you feel even more broken and busted than you already are. 

“Stop.” 

Her voice is quiet and she is unguarded. There is no longer a wall between you two and it's like you are standing in front of each other in a garden. You can see her clearly now and she can see you. She pulls you gently to the edge of the bed and suddenly it feels like the volume button that has been going on full blast between you two has been turned down to low.

She takes your hand and places it above her heart and you think you'll collapse from the strength of the electric current running between your bodies.

“You love me?,” she asks, her accent thick as her tongue traces over each word slowly.

“Yes!! Didn’t you figure that out on the bridge when I told you I only saw your face when I think about my future?” 

Your heart is thumping, thumping, thumping, and you realize you just admitted (again) that you loved her and you weren’t prepared to be so open and vulnerable but you can no longer give a shit about these things because if you do, she might leave again and tracking her down won’t be as easy as it was this time. 

“I thought you didn’t care about me because you walked away.”

Her statement is short and simple but also very loaded. You think she must have been so scared on the bridge because she didn't see you turn around even though you did, for half a second. You realize she was letting you go with her instructions to see if you would willingly make the choice to come back to her. You remember her words in Rome and how you rejected her. She must have thought you would reject her again, on the bridge, so that's why she invited you to make a choice. And you walked away. She must have thought you were just like everyone else in her life who abandoned her and this comparison must have scared her and doubt all those feelings she had for you. Now you understand her behavior and her one word responses and her fucking spree and her freak out by the coffee station. And even then, even when she was still upset with you for abandoning her, she stuck around to see if you were okay.

“Oksana, I do care about you and that's exactly why I walked away! I was just doing what you wanted! These last few weeks have been complete --"

“Shit?”

“Pure shit. I haven’t been able to sleep. I haven’t been able to focus at work. You’ve shown up every day, worked your ass off, and just…disappeared afterwards like you had so many people to see and so many things to do and I felt left out and thought maybe you didn’t like this new life Carolyn is trying to create for us. Maybe you think I’m boring and this life is boring and you just wanted to get away from everything and have sex with strangers…”

She’s crying in front of you and now you are too and you reach out to brush away the tears on her face and you know that you will always reach for her and she will always reach back no matter how much the both of you try to push and pull and cry and scream and threaten to leave and actually leave.

“You’re not boring. You’re the most interesting thing about me. I haven’t been able to sleep or eat or think about anything other than you. I made a mistake. I told you to walk away but I really wanted you to turn around so we could go somewhere together and start something new together. I thought you didn’t like me anymore.”

Your body stills and you realize that she is making sense, in her own very stupid, very idiotic way, everything she is saying is perfectly reasonable because she takes things at face value and you are always searching for nuances and double meanings and sometimes even triple meanings instead of accepting what is right there in front of your own eyes. 

“That’s so stupid,” you say softly, the bruise blooming across her throat catching your attention once again. You wonder if you should ask her about it but you don’t want her to hide from you again so you decide not to be stupid and instead remain silent.

“I know, I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re—“

“I am.”

You want to kiss her so badly but you don’t want to scare her away. So you come up with a more gentle tactic that will hopefully lead to kissing tomorrow.

"Just shut up and listen to me for one second. Do you want to be my girlfriend?” 

Her quick response shocks you: “Yes.”

“Really?,” you ask, wondering if she heard you correctly.

“Yes, really. Because guess what, I fucking love you, too.”

The air escapes from your lungs and you smile at her. She smiles back and then she’s laughing and you think that’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard, probably even more sweeter than the sounds she makes when she’s having sex. 

She places her hands on your sides and pulls you closer until your foreheads are touching. You move your hand up and down the right side of her body that is unfortunately covered by a very thick robe.

“Do you want to lie down together?,” she asks you and you nod, exhaling relief and gratitude that you’ve finally managed to make it to this intimate moment despite all the shit you two have been through together and not together.

She helps you remove your jacket and gets up to prepare the bed. You decide to remove your jeans because they’re too tight but also because you want to show her that you trust her. When she turns around, her mouth forms the shape of an “Oh” and her eyes run up and down your skin hungrily. You recognize that look because you’re sure it’s in your eyes, too. She is blushing beneath your hungry stare so you walk towards her. You want to kiss her on the lips but instead you kiss her on the cheek, leaving behind a promise of everything to come. 

You get into bed and she slips in behind you. You shift your body so you can look at her after she turns off the lamp and shifts back towards you. You think she’s hot in the robe and probably wants to take it off but isn’t going to because she is afraid of making you uncomfortable. So you tell her she can remove it, if she would like, and she does. You can’t help but reach out to her, your hands connecting with her hipbone and her chest. Her eyes close and you want her to open them so she can look at you looking at her. She opens them and looks straight between your legs, somehow unabashedly and shyly. 

“Can you just hold me?,” you ask her, not wanting to ruin the moment with sex because you know you will have sex with her later, just not tonight.

“Okay,” she whispers. She lies down on her back and you rest your head against her neck. You’re not shy when you wrap your arm around her waist or when your fingers trace the lines of her ribcage. You can feel her body reacting beneath your touch and you feel powerful.

“Eve?,” her voice penetrates the darkness.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Your heart expands and you know she means it and you know neither of you is afraid anymore.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry for giving you really bad instructions on the bridge.”

You can hear the scratchiness in her voice and you wish you could soothe the regret she feels. Suddenly, the lack of sleep you have had over the last two weeks is making your head fuzzy and your body sore.

“I know you are. We can talk some more in the morning, okay?” 

“Can we get pancakes for breakfast?”

You smile at the enthusiasm in her voice because of course she would be excited over pancakes.

“Yes. Pancakes and lots of coffee. We have a lot of talking and planning to do.”

“Yes, boss.” 

You smile again at how smug she sounds.

“Please don’t call me that, it reminds me of Carolyn and I don’t want to think about her when we’re lying next to each other.”

“Okay, girlfriend.”

Finally, there is a term for what you two mean to each other and to the world and you’re finally able to breathe without it hurting so much. You are holding each other in the garden and it is fucking gorgeous.

“Goodnight then, girlfriend,” you say softly, tightening your grip around her while feeling her fingers squeeze your shoulder affectionately in response.

Then you smile one last time because you (finally) got the girl. 


	3. "Sex On Fire"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle and Eve wake up after sleeping next to each other and (finally) do the deed.
> 
> Written in Villanelle's POV, next chapter will be Eve's.
> 
> ****Happy Birthday to Sandra Oh, icon and living legend!*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on this being a multi chapter piece, nor was I planning to use Kings of Leon songs for chapter titles, yet here we are. Artist might change for the next chapter!
> 
> "Sex On Fire" videos:  
> Original: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RF0HhrwIwp0
> 
> Cover by Beyoncé: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wjQnpJVdv-8
> 
> Lyrics:  
> Lay where you're laying  
> Don't make a sound  
> I know they're watching  
> Watching  
> All the commotion  
> The kiddie like play  
> It has people talking  
> Talking  
> You  
> Your sex is on fire  
> The dark of the alley  
> The breaking of day  
> Head while I'm driving  
> I'm driving  
> Soft lips are open  
> Them knuckles are pale  
> Feels like you're dying  
> You're dying  
> You  
> Your sex is on fire  
> Consumed  
> With what's to transpire  
> Hot as a fever  
> Rattle of bones  
> I could just taste it  
> Taste it  
> If it's not forever  
> But there's just tonight  
> Oh we're still the greatest  
> The greatest  
> The greatest  
> You  
> Your sex is on fire  
> You  
> Your sex is on fire  
> Consumed  
> With what's to transpire  
> And you  
> Your sex is on fire  
> Consumed  
> With what's to transpire

When you wake up, the sun hasn’t risen yet. Your eyes are bleary from exhaustion and it takes you a few seconds to realize that you’re absolutely plastered against another human form and it’s her human form and it feels fucking amazing. You feel safe. You feel wanted. You want her to feel safe and you hope she feels wanted. Even though you haven’t had sex (yet), you feel like you’re waking up the morning after having sex and your mind and body are both drenched with desire. You’ve never felt so physically intimate with someone else before, definitely not with any of your previous lovers or one-night stands.

Her hair is tickling your chin and you grin. Her right arm is above your right arm which somehow wound its way around her stomach the night before and stayed there. Your legs aren’t intertwined with hers but they’re angled so that you can feel the bend of her knees. You smile because you feel secure even though, as the big spoon, you’re technically the one securing someone else.

You feel her shift slowly beneath your grasp and you try to loosen your grip so she doesn’t think you’re as needy as you are. But then you shake your head and tell your thoughts to fuck off because you want her to know that you like holding her and like her holding onto you.

“God, you’re thinking so loudly,” she teases, saying something you would say to her, giving you the side eye and a small grin. You splay your fingers against her navel and pause, realizing then that your hand must have slipped beneath her shirt during the night.

“Are you trying to feel me up?,” she whispers. Every hair on your body stands up as your mind registers the intentional drop in her voice.

“So what if I am?,” you whisper back, feeling aroused and bold. You adjust your body so that your lips are pressing against her neck and suddenly you’re moving her hair and kissing down its length and stopping above her collarbone. She pushes her body back into yours so that it comes in contact with your own and you still, feeling her underwear against your thighs.

“Then I would tell you to keep going,” she replies, turning around to face you, her eyes daring you to make a move.

You pull her towards you and kiss her deeply and the kiss is electrifying, paralyzing, breathtaking, and bruising. She moans into your mouth and mimics what you are doing, slipping her tongue between your lips as the rate of the kissing starts to escalate and your breathing begins to shorten.

“Can I take this off?,” you ask, holding onto the bottom of her t-shirt. She nods. The t-shirt is on the floor two seconds later. You gently roll her onto her back and kiss your way down her throat and across her collarbone. Your lips hover over her breasts and you make eye contact with her.

“Can I kiss you here?,” you ask, desperation coating your voice. She nods again, eyes heavy-lidded and half-closed. You dip your head down and gently tug on each of her nipples with your teeth before circling them with your tongue. She gasps and you can feel her writhing beneath you, fingers digging into your back.

“Does that feel good?,” you whisper, pulling your head back.

She nods again.

You repeat what you just did and she pulls your head up to kiss you. Your body is burning and you can’t think of anything else but the way she feels. You kiss her back again and again and again and she is gasping your name into your mouth and you’ve never felt so powerless and so powerful.

You move your body down hers and you lightly kiss the area around her navel. Her stomach muscles clench and her fingers find your shoulders, gripping them tightly. 

You ask her for permission to move down even more and she nods before letting you remove her underwear. You kiss the dips of her pelvic bone and her back arches. She begs you to keep going. So you do.

And then you enter her with your tongue and your fingers. And you taste her. And you kiss her. And you lick her. And you suck on her. And she’s arching and buckling, rising and falling, moaning and screaming, and you feel like you’re flying and she looks like she’s flying. You’ve never been religious but you’re sure the scene in front of you is the most sacred you’ll ever witness. This must be what making love feels like and it's absolutely unlike the mindless sex you've had before.

You’ve already climaxed just by watching her climax and you know that this is it. This your life-altering moment. This is what falling feels like. This is what filling the void feels like. And you know you would choose the pain you have experienced because of her, for her, from her, all over again just for this pleasure. 

She reaches for you and you let her lips find yours and she’s thanking you without even saying the words. When she stops, for a second, eyes tracing over the bruises her mouth has left against your throat, your body reacts to the space between you two. 

“Is it okay if I kiss you here?,” she asks, squeezing your breasts.

You swallow and nod.

So she does.

A current ripples throughout your body when her tongue winds itself around your nipples and your hips buck up to kiss her thigh. And even though she’s pressing against you, her muscles straining against your muscles, you feel like you are walking on water.

She moves down and asks another question and you nod again, barely able to register the words. When her tongue finds your clit, you beg and you groan and you rise up to meet her mouth and she smiles against you. You come undone with that smile and her eye contact and her hair against your thighs and her tongue between your legs and you’re trembling and then she’s holding you still, soothing, caressing, helping you ride out the orgasm.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until her head is above your own and she’s kissing away your tears and whispering into your ear.

“Are you okay?”

You nod.

“Are you sure?”

You nod.

“Was it…good?”

“The best,” you reply, panting, trying to slow down your breaths. She doesn’t move from her position so you move your hands and clasp your fingers around her lower back, holding her above you. 

“Why did we take so long to do that?,” she asks playfully.

You laugh and she laughs and the entire room seems to be spinning but you don’t care because at least you’re spinning with her.


End file.
